


death and the traveler ( EmetWoL Week 2020 )

by BlackJacketsandPens



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), emetwol week 2020, needed the fluff tbh, sap sap everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackJacketsandPens/pseuds/BlackJacketsandPens
Summary: I'll follow you down / to where forever lies / Without a doubt I'm on your side / There's nowhere else that I would rather beFor EmetWoL Week 2020.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. day 1: light/dark

**Day One: Light / Dark**

_“By light and darkness cast aloft, are dreamtide oaths resworn…”_

Hades cracked an eye open from where he lay across Bran’s lap, having been napping -- as usual -- in the afternoon light of Revenant’s Toll. they’d ostensibly come up to one of the higher balconies so that Bran could get some things done, sorting his supplies and all that, both in peace and while it was so nice out, but...well, _Hades_ had ended up napping.

“...that’s from _Tale of the Paladin_ , isn’t it?” He asked, yawning widely, and blinking up at the Warrior where he sat, staring out at the early evening sky, the sun just beginning to set past the Crystal Tower. “The Mysidian prophecy.” His lips twitched. “Quoting faerie tales now, are we, hero? What brought that on?”

Bran didn’t take the bait, for once, remaining pensive rather than getting flustered or sarcastic. “Just thinking,” he said after a moment. “That one was my favorite when I was little. Always used to beg my da to tell it. Ran around pretending I was Cecil, waving a stick around at nothing. S’why I became a paladin, joined the Sultansworn and all that.” He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Funny how things turn out…”

He looked down at Hades, now. “Though I kind of turned around and did the opposite of Cecil, didn’t I?” He mused quietly, almost bitter. “From a paladin to a dark knight instead of the other way around. There’s irony there, somewhere.”

Hades hummed quietly, reaching up to rest a hand on Bran’s cheek. “Don’t sound so self-deprecating,” he scolded gently. “You became what you had to, in order to survive. There’s no shame in that. You know now better than ever that light is not always good and pure, and darkness is not always cruel and evil. After all, are you not now the Warrior of Darkness? A dark knight to bring the night sky... _that_ is the stuff of faerie tales, if you ask me.”

“Hush, you,” Bran muttered, cheeks dusted faintly pink-- his morose mood, however, was not tamed so easily, and he sighed, leaning into the hand on his cheek. “Those faerie tales...they were always based on Warriors of Light from somewhere and somewhen in the past, right?” He asked. “Then...did Cecil really…?”

“Don’t compare yourself to anyone else, hero,” Hades said with a frown, sitting upright. “You lot are all different, every one of you. Your deeds, your beliefs, your ideals. Don’t sit there and wonder about if this one was better than you, or if that one would not have fallen. You are you, hero, you and you alone. None else can compare, or replace you.”

Bran flushed slightly. “...I guess,” he murmured. “And that-- that’s nice of you to say. But...ugh, I dunno. Faerie tales really hit differently, looking back on them now with what I’ve learned. I just...I wonder.”

“Well, don’t,” Hades scolded. “As I said. You are you, and none can compare to that. My hero. The shadow and the sun alike. Your radiance puts all others to shame, for it is not Her light but your own, warm and gentle, softened with the stains of all you’ve been through yet still bright, a flame that still burns in the darkest of nights.” He paused, chuckling. “Perhaps one of these days I should write a play of my own,” he mused, shifting to lean on the younger Warrior. “I’m passably poetic enough.”

Bran took a few moments to unstick the words from his throat, face burning. “...oh,” he finally managed, voice slightly strangled. “That’s...oh. Okay.” 

“You, on the other hand, are _certainly_ no actor, my dear Bran,” Hades teased fondly, pressing lips gently to his cheek and lingering, letting his eyes close a moment. “So easily lost for words...though I will admit, it is quite endearing.” He pulled away, then, humming softly and smiling. “You know...perhaps that faerie tale had something of true prophecy to it, after all. How did the rest of that poem go…?” He looked out at the setting sun in thought. “ _When moon from shadow has egressed, guided forth anew by light made manifest_...” He recited. “Sounds a bit familiar, I think.”

Bran snorted. “Do you mean Elidibus, or you?” He asked, but softened, leaning into the ancient. “Either way...I guess it does fit. Maybe I’ve still got a little Cecil in me yet.”

“Perhaps you do,” Hades said softly, running a hand through his hair. “Though I’d prefer to say not, if just because you are _my_ hero, none other. One day there will be stories sung of _you_ , and I will cherish them all. Warrior of Light and Darkness.”

Bran flushed. “I hope I don’t have to hear them,” he said wryly. “They’d probably make me way more dashing and charming than I actually am.”

“Why, hero!” Hades said with a grin. “I think you’re _plenty_ dashing!” He laughed as Bran once again went red, leaning his head against the Warrior’s. “That won’t be for a long time yet, though. Your story’s yet to be over.”

“It isn’t,” Bran agreed, and then it was his turn to smile. “And I’m glad you’re going to be part of it from now on. Thank you for coming back, Hades.”

Hades blinked, and then flushed himself, clearing his throat. “....yes, well. You called, and I answered, that’s all,” he said, but then let out a breath. “...I’m glad to be here with you, hero. Bran. Thank you for giving me the chance to be.”

_For guiding me home_.


	2. day 2: ocean/rain

**Day 2: Ocean / Rain**

“Why am I here again?”

Hades lay on his back on the deck of the ship, staring at Bran with an almost wounded sort of pout, the back of one hand dramatically pressed to his forehead. “Really, hero, _why?”_

 _“You_ were the one that wanted to tag along on adventures with me,” Bran said with a grin, shifting to lean better on the railing, fishing rod loose in his hands. “Unfortunately for you, that includes this. _Fishing_.” He nudged Hades gently with a foot. “Stop being so dramatic, it’s not that bad.”

Hades huffed, sitting up. “Fishing,” he echoed. “The Warrior of Light and Darkness, vanquisher of primals, savior of two stars, liberator of nations... _fishing_.” He smiled, though, the twinkle in his eyes belying his fond amusement. “Really, what _would_ people say?”

“Doesn’t matter, don’t care!” Bran declared with a laugh, but then grew serious, staring out at the water. “My da was a fisherman,” he explained. “So was his da. And so were most of the men in the town I grew up in. When I was little, he used to take me out on his boat. Showed me how to fish, taught me whatever das teach their sons, told me stories-- it was nice. Figured I was gonna be one too, but then I went off to adventure, and here I am a hero.” He shrugged, smiling faintly again. “Still nice, to fish. Da’s gone, but…he’s still here. You get it.”

Hades rocked to his feet, moving to stand next to him, leaning into his side and staring out at the final fingers of the sunset stretched across sea and sky. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I...well, it’s not quite the same, but you might have noticed that for the most part nowadays I am not so-- well, _insufferable_ ,” he said, grinning faintly to himself. “It is...that is, Hythlodaeus used to be quite a lot like that. And so-- over the eons, I found myself in many of my roles to...emulate him, in many ways. Partially because it was something to entertain myself with, driving those mortals I so detested mad the same way my friend used to frustrate me, but…” He shook his head. “He was not gone, not entirely, so long as I placed some of him into myself.”

“Yeah,” Bran echoed, nodding in understanding, and then paused, giving Hades a dirty look and a fond elbow to the side. “So you being an obnoxious, overdramatic arse was because _Hythlodaeus_ used to be an obnoxious, overdramatic arse?” He asked, laughing. “Gods damn it. I think I prefer you better when you’re _not_ making me want to bang my head against a wall.” He paused, though, and softened. “But...I get it. You know, you’re still a little bit like that. Maybe all those years of playing at being like him made him really rub off on you.”

Hades snorted. “Perhaps. I know _something_ has changed in me after all these eons, even if it is not so drastic as my fellows. If it is only that I have learned how to loosen up a tad and picked up a taste for the dramatic, then...I suppose I should be thankful.” He went distant for a moment, then, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. “It was...difficult, at times, to want to hang onto myself as I was. But I did, all the same.”

“...I get that, too,” Bran said, leaning his head absently on Hades’ shoulder. “Shit changes you, whether you like it or not, but...it’s up to you how much you hold onto the person you were to begin with, and how much you become someone else. I...almost threw it all away, y’know. Just walked off and left and, gods, I don’t know the person I would’ve been if I had. But I didn’t, I hung onto what was left of the kid I used to be...and here I am.” He smiled. “Glad I did, though, even if I wasn’t sure why I bothered at the time.”

“I’m glad you did too,” Hades said decisively. “I cannot begin to imagine what would have happened should you have turned away from who you are.” He reached up to ruffle his hair gently, letting his arm rest on his shoulders once he did. “You are a hero, Bran, _my_ hero, no matter how tarnished or careworn your soul becomes. Never let that part of you change.”

Bran hummed to himself quietly, smiling beneath pink cheeks. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he promised. “After all, I have a fair few reasons to stay exactly who I am now.”

They both fell silent, then, enjoying the soft sounds of the waves and the rocking of the boat, the murmur of conversation that surrounded them from the others on the _Endeavor_ that fished around them-- they’d gone out that evening for a voyage on Bran’s insistence, and Hades had glamoured himself to seem a normal Hyur to tag along; no one saw anything unusual with the pair, simply a stocky, scruffy young brunet and his companion, a tall, slender man with dark red hair (still shot through with white at the temple) and golden eyes. 

Night had well fallen at this point, and Bran yawned, his head bobbing over his fishing rod, though he would still jerk awake when there was a tug and reel in a fish or squid or other aquatic such and such to add to the bucket at his feet. It was already a fair bit full, and Hades would every so often nudge it with his boot to make sure anything still alive was staying within the bucket’s confines. It was quiet and still save the water, but eventually there was a soft rumble, a flash of light within the clouds, and soon it began to rain. It wasn’t a heavy downpour, but nor was it a drizzle -- somewhere in the middle, a gentle nighttime rainfall, just enough to dampen the travelers on the boat but not enough to soak them through. Hades let out an unhappy little noise, pouting, and after a few moment’s consideration (and noting a female Roegadyn a few films to the left pulling out one of her own) slipped a hand somewhere unseen by the other passengers and Created an umbrella, snapping it open and balancing it between himself and Bran.

“Really?” Bran asked, bemused as he stifled another yawn. “It’s just a little rain. It’s not going to hurt you or anything.”

Hades huffed. “It’s rain. I would vastly prefer to _not_ return home damp to my smallclothes, if it’s all the same to you.” He paused, raising an eyebrow teasingly. “Though, however, that would entail having to _disrobe_ later on…”

 _“Hades!”_ Bran yelped, going crimson ear to ear, elbowing him and spluttering a little wordlessly before staring fixedly at the water below him. The silence after that reigned for a while, then, until a male Miqo’te across the way near the bow let out an exclamation. “Got a spectral!” He yelled over his shoulder, and everyone immediately dove for their tackle boxes, scrambling to reel in their lines and switch baits. Hades raised his eyebrows as Bran fished out a worm to put on his hook, bemused.

“What in the stars’ names are _you_ getting so excited about, hero?” He asked, titling his head as Bran leaned over the railing, watching the water with hook in hand as if waiting for the right moment to drop the line. Hades peered over the railing as well, still puzzled. “I don’t see anythi--” 

He was interrupted, then, by the sea lighting up as if the Lifestream itself pulsed beneath it, shimmering bright with a dozen colors that threw themselves up into the air as an aurora, glittering all the brighter through the rain that still misted the air. Hades gasped, eyes going wide, and he turned to stare at Bran a moment as the Warrior cast his line. “...what...?”

“Spectral current,” Bran answered, glancing over to him only briefly before fixing his eyes back on the waters. “Happens sometimes. Anyone’s best guess is that when you hook a fish from a type of aetherially charged current, you make it go nuts for a bit and the weather does this. Fish go crazy, too, so it’s great when it happens. Pretty, too.” He smiled to himself, glancing over to him again. “That’s the layman’s terms, anyway, none of us are aetherologists or anything. But you might see it better than most, right?”

Hades was silent for a long moment, enough that Bran let his vision pull away from the nimble dancer he was unhooking to toss into his bucket. “Hades…?” He asked, but then stopped, almost mesmerised. The ancient was staring at the view, the shimmering sea and sky lit by the aetherial currents and made even ethereal by the rain, his eyes gone distant and faraway and his lips slightly parted in awe. He lowered the umbrella, letting it touch the deck in limp hands as if it was half forgotten, and took a step back to tilt his head slightly upward, taking in as much of the view as he could.

“...it’s _beautiful_ ,” he managed eventually, his voice near a whisper. “ _Stars_ , Bran, this is…” He lifted a hand as if to trail it through the air, a sigh escaping him. “ _Look_ at it.”

Bran smiled faintly. “I am,” he said quietly. “I thought you might like it. They don’t happen often, but I was hoping you’d get to see it when we went out.” He shifted closer, balancing his rod in one hand and taking Hades’ with the other. “M’glad you got to.”

“You brought me out to see…?” He whispered, and then smiled himself. “It...it looks as if we were standing in the Lifestream itself, Bran, _My_ Lifestream, my Underworld. Your souls, even sundered as they are, shimmer like so many stars, like the night sky itself, and all this aether…” He closed his eyes. “You could never truly know what it is like to see as I do, but this...this comes close.” He opened them again, and turned to press his lips briefly to Bran’s own, squeezing his hand and stepping back to the railing, leaning out into the open water to watch the current glow and glimmer.

Bran swallowed, his face crimson again, and moved back to the railing himself. Despite the current, though, his eyes were still trained on Hades, the way the wind scattered his damp hair and the expression of soft awe and wonder on his face. He knew he was missing catches, really, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to care. For all that he was-- for all that he was uncertain, and shy about this, and sometimes still had no idea what he was doing -- he’d never once had any kind of feelings for anyone at _all_ , before now -- it...he couldn’t help but know how he felt anyway, know that seeing that look on his face, seeing how he reached out to let rain brush his fingertips as they trailed through the shimmering bands of aether that trailed along in the air beside the ship, a smile settling on his lips...it was worth the whole day’s worth of fishing, whether or not he’d even caught anything at all. He could have come home with an empty bucket, if it meant he still got to see him make that face.

The current faded eventually, and so did the voyage -- and Bran ducked his head, crimson, as Hades laughed while the other fishes whistled at them teasingly as they disembarked -- and they headed back down the Limsa street towards the Drowning Wench and the Mizzenmast. “...still want to complain about fishing?” Bran asked teasingly, hefting his bag in one hand and his bucket (nearly emptied, now, after a brief stop at the Hyaline, and with only a few intended for future meals remaining) in the other. “Or have you decided it might not be so bad, after all?”

“You’ve caught me,” Hades teased back, twirling the umbrella absently in one hand. “I concede; fishing is, on occasion, not so boring as I feared. Thank you for the excursion, hero, and for the gift you’ve given me in the doing.” He paused as they stopped at their inn room, leaning in to kiss him one more time. “To know that I am thought of, when you are elsewhere-- that you see aught on your travels and think to show it to me...you’ve no idea what that means.”

Bran flushed, embarrassed -- he didn’t think he’d _ever_ be used to being kissed -- but smiled all the same. “I’m glad you liked it,” he said quietly, opening their door and letting Hades enter first, closing it behind him. “And…of course I think of you. It never occurred to me not to.” he dropped his things by the door, moving to where Hades was already perched on the side of the bed, a Created towel in hand to dry his hair. “No matter where I am, I _always_ think of the people I love. They’re more than anything else what keeps me going.” He stood for a moment, watching him, and then ducked briefly to initiate a kiss of his own, quick and shy. “Like my da is always with me when I fish, you...all of you are always... _wherever_ I go, I take the people I love with me.”

He gasped, then, when Hades moved, tugging him into a tight, almost desperate embrace. For a moment he was confused, but when he heard a ragged breath and felt the ancient’s arms tremble, he knew that -- not for the first time -- he had said something that had caused him to think of Azem, the person who had come before. He did it sometimes, echoed the man whose soul he carried, and every time it hit Hades hard; harder, he thought, because he knew that man was gone, and it was really only Bran. Maybe it was worse knowing that it really was only shadows and echoes, than if he had still had the false hope that if he just tried hard enough he could see him again.

But even so, Hades stayed. He stayed, and he loved him -- _him_ , he knew, and never had doubted, because he had left him that crystal and come back in the first place -- and that meant...that meant a lot to _him_. More than he thought he could ever figure out words for. 

“Now and for always, until the sun and stars fall from the heavens,” Hades murmured, and Bran thought he might be quoting something, or someone, but he pulled away to smile quietly. 

“Yeah,” he said. “But they won’t, so that means forever.” 

That meant forever, he thought once more, and leaned back into Hades’ embrace. 


	3. day 3: i knew you once upon a time

**Day 3: I Knew You Once Upon A Time**

Once upon a time, there was a hero.

There are always heroes, in every once upon a time. Always heroes, and always villains. That never changes. It is what it is in every story, every tale, and this time is no different.

There was a hero, and a villain.

The hero was noble, true, brave and kind and selfless, everything a hero should be. They fought for those that needed protecting, did their best to take care of the people he loved and even complete strangers, and was always ready to lend a hand to those in need. 

Just as he always was, always would be. 

This hero had always been a hero, you see. He had been a hero since time began, his soul bright and strong and shining like the sun, no matter how dark the world would become. Even as the stars fell around him, he remained a hero. Even as he became someone else, someone new, over and over again-- he remained a hero. Because that is who he was.

And once upon a time, there was a villain.

He was not always a villain. He had been a hero once, too-- and even now he was a hero in his own mind. Selfless, and brave, and fighting with all he had for the lives of his beloved people. But somehow, in some way, that love and that selflessness had turned themselves upside down without him realizing -- and in trying to be his people’s hero, he had become everyone else’s villain. 

They met every so often, across the ages, this hero and villain-- the hero would never recognize him, a new face and new life each time, but the villain? The villain always knew. The villain always knew that sun-bright soul, for he had once loved the hero, at the very beginning, their first life. But he could not, did not, say so. For why would he bother, when the hero did not know him? Would never know him? Why would he bother, when they stood opposed now, when they were enemies and always would be? When they could no longer understand one another, there was no point in trying to reach out. 

Even if he still loved the hero, even if he always would.

One day, though, the hero reappeared as they always would, a bright eyed boy just like every other time. Just like every other life, he was the same: kind and noble, brave and selfless, gentle and full of bright and cheerful life like a shining sun. and perhaps, had things not happened as they did, it would have been just like the last time, the time before that, every other time since the cycle of hero and villain began.

But things happened, and that hero broke into pieces, that sun-bright soul shattered in a different sort of way. He broke to pieces, and nearly gave himself up, ended his own story in pain and betrayal and a grief and guilt unbearable. But he did not. 

He did not, and kept on fighting, a hero of a different sort. No longer the same as he once was, no longer the same as he was in every other cycle, every other life. This one was different, the sun shadowed now but still burning, still fierce and bright even as it was now dimmed.

And this time, when the hero met the villain, they found they understood one another.

The villain looked at the hero and knew them, as he always did, and then looked again and saw that this time they were no naive warrior, no innocent knight-- this time they carried a weight on their shoulders and a darkness in their gaze, a guilt and a tiredness that mirrored his own. This time they listened, this time they understood.

And the hero? The hero looked at the villain, and saw that they were not so different. This time, they saw the hero the villain thought he was, the hero that he tried to be for his people that he had lost. This time, he saw that they were the same, desperately fighting on for those they both loved, no matter the pain, no matter the price. Because even if it hurt, and even if they wanted to stop, those they loved...they would fight until their last breath for those people.

Once upon a time, there was a hero, and there was a villain.

And this time, the faerie tale that was their lives may yet have their happily ever after, where they once more join hands under the same sky.


	4. day 4: sleep/journey

**Day 4: Sleep / Journey**

When the both of them carried so much on their shoulders, it was inevitable that the two would have nightmares. The things they’d seen and done, the grief and guilt they bore, there was no shortage of sins and suffering that could haunt their nighttime hours, sending them shooting from sleep and keeping them from further rest. 

Tonight, it was Bran’s turn to jerk awake, gasping, a hand coming up to the scar that ran down his chest from left shoulder down, down, down all the way to his right hip, the tooth marks of a dragon’s bite that nearly cleft him in twain. His fingers curled tight in his shirt, hand trembling, and he curled in on himself as he tried to steady his breathing, shaking and in a cold sweat. 

“...hero?” Came a voice from beside him, and he felt an arm come up absently to wrap around his waist as Hades, lying beside him, blinked hazy eyes up at him as he too stirred. “Is something the matter…?”

Bran managed a weak smile even as Hades sat up fully, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Just a bad dream, that’s all,” he promised, though he leaned into the lazy embrace. “M’fine.” 

“Liar,” Hades huffed gently, leaning his head to press into Bran’s short hair. “Tell me about it?”

Bran sighed, closing his eyes. “Nearly got bit in half by a dragon,” he said dryly. “Not much else to tell.”

Hades made a quiet spluttering noise, eyes going wide. “Nearly-- why?! What in all the stars were you _doing_ \--?”

“Dravanians attacked Ishgard, was asked to help,” Bran said tredly. “Ended up planting my arse at the gates and refusing to move. Dragon disagreed with that plan. Just happened to be a great fuckoff big dragon.” He sighed again. “Stabbed it through the head, though, so it worked out.”

“... _hero_ ,” Hades murmured, hugging him closer. “Brave, stubborn fool you are. I wish I could have seen it, though I’m not certain whether I would have been in awe or tearing my hair out. Not that that isn’t _unusual_ , considering your soul, but...”

Bran laughed quietly, closing his eyes. “...hey,” he said after a moment, quiet. “Your turn. Tell me a story, Hades? One about _him_. I want to know what he was like.” It wasn’t at all that he didn’t trust Hades feelings for him were as true as they were for the man he once was-- he knew that they were. But...he did want to know. What was the kind of man Azem was? What was he like, what did he do? He was supposedly a traveler, going from place to place, helping people the same way Bran himself did...but Hades rarely spoke of him except in asides and implications like the one just then. He understood that perhaps it was painful, but...he still wanted to know more. How much alike were they? How different? What had Hades seen in him that had made him think of Azem, soul aside?

Hades let out a long breath, quiet for what felt like forever. “...alright,” he said finally, a small sad smile settling over his lips. “I suppose it’s about time I did. You’ve already told me so much about you, all your stories. It’s only fair I share some of _his_.” 

He closed his eyes, shifting so that he was leaning against the wall, and Bran shifted with him so he sat leaning against his chest, their legs tangled loosely together. “Azem was...well, I imagine you were told at least the basics, when Hythlodaeus gave to you his crystal. A traveler, charged to venture forth from Amaurot and see the wider world, befriending those across the land and aiding them when he could. Though that last part wasn’t _exactly_ part of his duties, he did so anyway. He was just like that.” He laughed softly. “Amaurot was...rather like your Sharlayan, in that manner. We did not tend to get involved in outside troubles, and kept to ourselves as silent observers, wardens of our star. A bit stuck on the bigger picture, perhaps. But Azem...he always thought of the people first, even strangers. Always getting involved, even when it would cause him trouble to do so.” 

A smile settled, still sad, and he tangled his hand with Bran’s. “Drag us into it more often than not. Sometimes he wouldn’t, but sometimes...well, you know. He would call us, and we would come, and it would be both infuriating and amusing, and we’d all be a mess at the end of it. And he would laugh, smiling, and thank us for the help as if we hadn’t just...stars, I don’t know, been covered in the slime of the nasty, awful thing that inspired morbols.” Bran choked out a laugh and a groan, and it only made Hades smile wider. “It’s true! He never seemed to even care that he was covered in slime or dirt or who knew what! Forgot his mask half the time, even, he was an utter _disaster!_ But he would smile and thank us, grin so wide and be so _happy_ to have helped people, that it was...it was difficult to be angry.”

“Sounds like you sure tried to be,” Bran said wryly, amused at the tale so far.

Hades rolled his eyes. “I certainly did. And managed it, even! When I heard of one of his escapades, passed down through Elidibus or another convocant, it was quite simple to want to _wring his neck_ for whatever madcap scheme he’d come up with.” He sighed. “But then he would come home with the fruits of his labors -- _literally,_ sometimes -- and smile, and that made it...it made it rather impossible to _stay_ angry.”

“...alright, so I’m not gonna ask about the _literal fruits_ ,” Bran decided with another laugh and a shake of his head. “Because I’ve been handed shit just as weird as rewards for _my_ help, and I really don’t want to think about that.” He made a face, thinking about it all, and sighed. “I mean, it was probably a lot less annoying for him? But still…so much effort for _a bottle of wine_ , gods...”

That got a wheezing sort of giggle out of Hades, who shook his head and patted Bran’s shoulder, and Bran decided he did _not_ want to know. 

“But yes, a story,” Hades managed after a moment, letting his giggles die down. “Hm…there are a great many I could tell, so...let’s see, which one shall I choose…?”

He paused, then, and a smile once more spread itself across his face. “Ah! Yes, I know,” he decided. “I have one you might like.” 

He settled back against the wall, his eyes going a different sort of distant. “According to Azem, he had been traveling up one of the many coastlines, stopping every so often to spend time in each of the towns he came across. One of them, though -- it was quite lovely, actually, it...almost in a way looked like Limsa Lominsa, a great deal of white stone, though it had far more blue in its architecture than your city -- they asked him for some help. You see, there was apparently a rather vicious sea creature in the waters nearby, and it was preventing them from going out to fish or what...what was it they did?” He tilted his head in thought, before humming. “Ah, yes, pearls. They harvested pearls. They had a quite a cunning way of doing it, too, manipulating the aether around the oysters so that they opened for them without harm.”

“Pearl diving’s pretty complicated, isn’t it?” Bran mused. “You guys really had clever solutions for everything…”

Hades smiled. “That we did,” he said softly. “In any case, Azem was asked to deal with this mysterious sea creature-- for you see, no one had _seen_ it; it had been sinking boats and causing havoc, but no one had caught a glimpse of what it was. So they asked Azem for his aid, and he, of course, willingly agreed.” He rolled his eyes. “We were called, eventually, of course, and imagine my displeasure when we turned up on a ship Azem had taken to sea-- a ship, mind, that was rocking like someone had put it in a bottle and started shaking vigorously. We were soaked _immediately_ \-- we here being myself, Lahabrea, and Mitron.”

“Mitron...he had the sea creature section of the Akadaemia,” Bran said. “Makes sense Azem would ask him for help.” 

Hades sighed. “Yes, well, you didn’t know Mitron. The moment he touched feet to deck he was bolting to the edge, nearly tossing himself over the railing in excitement to try and see what it was, babbling a malm a minute about what it could possibly be and how fascinating it was.” He laughed, shaking his head. “At least that distracted us from shouting at Azem,” he said. “Lahabrea especially, considering he always seemed to pull the man away from his work and he was _never_ pleased about it.” He grinned faintly. “It was a _disaster_.”

“Well, yeah, the way you’re telling it, it sounds like it always was,” Bran pointed out, fondly amused. “So what happened?”

“A lot of yelling, getting soaking wet, nearly falling off the boat, and Mitron giggling like a schoolgirl,” Hades said dryly. “And all for finding out that the problem was a very lost and very unhappy young whale.”

Bran choked with laughter. “Oh gods, what?” He managed. “Really? Just a whale?”

“Just a whale!” Hades insisted, grinning. “Mitron carried it off to his department almost immediately to get it correctly home, and Lahabrea and I were stuck wringing our robes out for _bells_. I tasted saltwater in my mouth for _days_ ,” he complained. “But at least it inspired Lahabrea, and he created what was the precursor for Leviathan...more than I can say for me, though, I just got _wet_.”

Bran raised his eyebrows. “ _Just_ got wet?” He prompted, teasing, and Hades flushed, sighing.

“Alright, so Azem demanded I stay afterward for the reward, and we had quite a nice dinner, and he sent me back to Amaurot with his gifts, which were a quite a few rather pretty odds and ends made out of mother-of-pearl...” He sighed. “His apartment was _full_ of such things, all his souvenirs and gifts. It was a mess, but he loved it.”

“That…” Bran said quietly. “It does sound a lot like what I do, honestly. That’s...kinda nice.” He closed his eyes, settling closer. “Tell me another one?”

“It is, it seems, quite a bit like what you do…” Hades agreed softly. “But of course. If you’d like to hear more, I have plenty.” He ran a hand through Bran’s hair as the Warrior snuggled closer. “Thank you for listening, hero...”

“Yeah,” Bran said sleepily. “O’course. You loved him. S’not fair to pretend you didn’t. And I wanna know more about him, ‘cause he’s me. So...I wanna hear more. About him. Hells, about all of them. _All_ your adventures, the lot of you. So’s I can help you remember.”

Hades kissed him for that, softly, and smiled. “Thank you, Bran,” he said softly. “Truly, I do not know what I did to deserve this miracle that is you in my life. I never expected it, but...here you are, and every day that I wake up with you it seems a little more like I am not dreaming.”

“You’re not,” Bran promised. “You didn’t do anything to earn this, but you didn’t have to. S’not about earning. I chose this. Chose _you_ , idiot you are. So...here I am. And I won’t go anywhere, alright? I won’t.” He paused, smiling and yawning again. “Or...if I do, I’ll take you with me.”

Hades blinked, kissing him again. “I will always come when you call, Bran,” he murmured. “Where you lead, I will follow. That I promise.” That said, he smiled. “Now, another story. Let’s see, what else is there that might be interesting…?”

And so it went, telling Bran another story of Azem’s adventures-- he fell asleep halfway through, though, and Hades trailed off, contenting himself to hum an old, ancient lullaby as he closed his own eyes once more. It was true-- he did not plan to leave, now that he was here. Perhaps he was only in the audience, now, but...that did not mean he could not stay by his side.

So he would. And together, they would make new stories to treasure.


	5. day 5: fight/heal

**Day 5: Fight / Heal**

It had been _intended_ to be a peaceful day. But, Hades supposed, he should have known better to assume that any given day would be peaceful when he spent it with his hero-- after all, they were a shard of Azem, and _he_ never had anything to do with ‘peace’.

The had gone to the Fringes, today, Bran intending to spend the day fishing at the Velodyna and later on stopping by to visit his friends in Rhalgr’s Reach -- Hades had not been very certain of _that_ part, but perhaps as he was glamoured once again and with a different name, it would be alright; and Bran had _insisted_ upon it -- but…

He had dozed off once again, draped against Bran’s side and dozing in the afternoon sun, enjoying the simple pleasure of being able to do so and cease all worries, when he felt the Warrior shift and stand, pulling at the magics of the job crystal he carried to gather sword and armor to him. That was enough to startle him into wakefulness, sitting up properly to blink at the young man, brow furrowed in concerned puzzlement. “What is it?” He asked. “Has something happened?”

“Kinda,” Bran said, nodding towards the north of them. Hades followed his gaze and frowned deeply, eyebrows rising as he took in the sight. It was a huge, monstrous seedkin, shaped as a four-legged beast with heads like a hydra, a dozen twisting vines tipped with flytrap jaws for mouths and a back forested with flowering bulbs. “Udumbara,” Bran explained as Hades eyed it in concern. “Nasty fucker. The local branch of the Centurio hunting clan has a mark out for it whenever it’s wandering about. Apparently it likes to turn up when enough local seedkin are culled, so the Alliance posted at Oriens must have had to clear some out again…”

Hades felt his heart sink even as his gaze flickered from the beast -- _depressingly_ reminiscent of one of Halmarut’s creations, he realized, lashing tail and wooden limbs and all -- to Bran, who was already moving forward. “....you _aren’t_ ,” he said, vague horror descending. “ _Tell_ me you aren’t, hero.”

“Oriens isn’t even five malms from here,” Bran pointed out as if it were obvious. “ _Someone’s_ got to do something about it, even if it’s just chasing it away somewhere it’s not spitting distance from a whole base full of people, about maybe half of which are actually soldiers.”

Stars above, he was going to throttle him.

“That does not necessarily have to be _you_ ,” Hades said, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. “If it has a bounty on it, can you not, I don’t know, call for _aid?_ The bloody thing’s _bigger than a behemoth!_ You cannot tell me you’re going to--”

“If you don’t want to hear me say it, I won’t,” Bran said with a grin. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not doing it.” He hefted his sword over his shoulders. “Calling for help will take too long,” he said firmly. “And I can handle it. I’ve fought worse. Don’t forget I’m the guy who’s fought a good twenty primals _and_ five Lightwardens, not to mention a couple very angry great wyrms. A big angry plant is _nothing_.”

“That is _not_ helping your case!” Hades yelped, clambering to his feet. “Don’t you _dare!”_

But no, clearly, the Warrior of Light was not to be denied, and off he went sword in hand to duel a very large and very vicious seedkin several times his own height. _Just like Azem_ , Hades thought helplessly, losing the battle to groan and bury his face in his palms. “Why?” He managed helplessly. “Why are you _still like this?!”_

There was no answer, clearly, because he was already in battle, and there was no time for something like that. Obviously. Hades groaned once more, sighing, and peered up again at the sight of his hero in combat with the bloody great beast. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily, and shook his head. “Well,” he muttered with a huff. “I suppose he _did_ call me. Might as well once again make myself useful…and make sure _he_ doesn’t end up in something’s gullet. _Again_.”

As he once had, all those eons ago in another world. To be called to his side, only to see Azem, laughing, a smile on his face as he stood among imminent dangers without a care, holding out his hand as if to say _come, my friends, let us fight together!_ He supposed it was...different, for Bran. Not having that power, the ability to call those he loved to his side-- that, and in the end who else could? The Echo was not necessarily rare, but it was still uncommon, and he was the only one among his comrades who carried it. So even were he to have that same magic...he could not use it. For how could he, when he was the only one safe from the false gods that Lahabrea had put to being?

Melancholy thoughts aside, he shook himself off and hurried after Bran, magic already flickering at his fingertips. Well-- things were certainly different now. He no longer needed to call out to him for him to appear at his side...for he was already there, and always would be from this point forward. He had been called once, and he would stay...and, even if he had thought he was done with fighting, perhaps not so much.

After all, he didn’t have to fight in the greater battle, did he? All he’d have to do is help him with these lesser things. He didn’t have to fight primals or his brethren-- only prevent his hero from getting eaten by something _foolish_.

That said, once he got over there, it was with perfect timing, as Bran ducked to the side and rolled to get out of the way of the many heads breathing out a cloud of white spores and faltered in the water, sliding and near to toppling over as it brought its tail around to strike at the unbalanced Warrior.

Bran brought his sword up to soften the blow, but it didn’t come, and he blinked, startled-- to look up and see an arrow of flickering magic impaling the tail, Udumbara screaming and recoiling backwards. “--- _Hades?_ ” He managed, looking over his shoulder.

“Who else?” Hades said irritably, though his eyes were still fond. “ _Stars_ , hero, you can’t simply go rushing off headlong into everything and expect me not to follow! Who’s to keep you from getting yourself eaten, or some such nonsense?” A smile finally settled. “Now, shall we?”

Bran grinned, after a moment’s pause, eyes alight. “Hells yes, we shall,” he said, unable to contain an emotion he wasn’t even sure what to call. He had been happy enough when the Scions had finally, _finally_ been able to join his fight on the First-- but now...now Hades was here, fighting beside him, and he knew enough now to know that him doing so was something...was something he had always done, a gift he was given that was something that bound their souls together across the eons.

Or...maybe it was his soul, knowing how _right_ this was, that made him so happy?

Either way, he couldn’t get the grin off his face as they fought, him charging in once more as Hades hovered a safe distance away, aetherial arrows and explosions of magic striking at the creature from afar. Every so often a glimmering shield would flicker around him, dampening the strikes and guarding him from the thing’s breath, and it was-- it was as if they had _always_ fought together. And hadn’t they? All those years ago...it was kind of nice, to have this again, even if he wasn’t and never would be that person, and in a way Hades wasn’t the same either. That they could still have something like it...it was more than welcome.

Eventually, the thing fled north again further up the river and away from Oriens, and Bran fell backwards into the water with a groan of exhaustion. “Hells, _fuck_ that thing,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair, only to pause and startle briefly when a soft spark of magic danced along his arm and his scratched up cheeks, mending the wounds and soothing the ache in his bones. Blinking, he turned to look as Hades crouched beside him, a fondly amused smile on his face.

“Are you quite done with the excitement for the day, hero?” He asked fondly, putting a hand on his shoulder to let another flicker of soft magic dance across Bran’s skin. “I should hope so, because that is _far more_ than enough of it, if you ask me.”

Bran grinned, tilting to lean into the ancient. “If it were up to you, I’d have no fun at all,” he teased, only for Hades to groan loudly and shaking his head. “But yeah, I’m done.”

“Trust me, hero, I’m far more tolerant of fun than I once was,” Hades teased back. “And different _kinds_ of fun, at that.” He paused to grin at Bran’s fierce blush. “But all the same, truly, I do _not_ consider jumping headlong into battles alone fun and _never will_. So please, for my sake, do try to exercise a little more caution?”

“...alright,” Bran promised, leaning into kiss Hades shyly. “I’ll warn you before I rush into battle next time, yeah? That way you can come _with_ me, instead of chasing after me and yelling.”

Hades laughed. “Be sure to keep that promise, hero,” he warned fondly, before levering himself up to his feet and offering Bran a hand up as well. “Now, come along. Your fishing day is like as not ruined given our scuffle right in the middle of the river, so did you not wish to visit your friends?”

“Yeah,” Bran said, rocking himself to his feet. “I did. And you know what, we’ll stop somewhere on our way back home and I’ll buy you dinner. _And_ dessert, as an apology.” He grinned. “Sound good?”

“Delightful,” Hades said, linking arms with Bran. “I’ve been successfully bribed out of annoyance with sweets, congratulations.” The two of them laughed, and Bran moved to pick up his discarded pack and fishing rod before they headed off down the path to the Reach.

This time, Hades thought absently, he would join him on his journeys-- he wouldn’t _need_ called, for he would be there already. And...and he could protect him, as he never had before. Yes, he decided. That was worth coming back for.


	6. day 6: masks

**Day 6: Masks**

Bran had assumed everything was alright, really-- maybe he shouldn’t have, and maybe that was on him, but he didn’t think...he didn’t think there was anything _wrong_.

Hades had been fine, since he’d come back. Melancholy, sometimes, a bit solemn and quiet on occasion, and a hells of a lot less completely insufferably obnoxious, but...still cheerful and sarcastic, and really he hadn’t seemed at all to be doing so badly. Maybe it was because he _had_ his moments of sorrow or quiet introspection that Bran had thought he was doing alright; he wasn’t stupid enough to think Hades was _okay_ , but he’d maybe...been lulled into thinking he was coping well, maybe, by seeing that he was a bit affected, but not much.

He supposed it was on him for not noticing, but...at the same time, he knew Hades hadn’t wanted him to notice. He’d _wanted_ him to think he was fine, not worth worrying about. He had his own weight to carry, after all. 

Which was stupid, obviously, because they were supposed to help each other with that kind of shit, right? But clearly Hades was dumber than he’d thought. Maybe he’d assumed that the furious, desperate meltdown he’d had in the illusory Amaurot had been it? That _that_ was his lowest point, and there was nowhere to go but up? 

Either way, it really didn’t matter, because here they were now with the consequences.

When he’d visited Lyse a few days earlier, she’d asked him along to a routine meeting of the Ala Mhigan and Gyr Abanian leaders -- this one with a lot less primal summoning -- and, well, he’d agreed. After all, he _had_ helped free them and all, and he _was_ the Warrior of Light...and more importantly, he was Lyse’s friend. So, sure, he’d sit in. Even if he didn’t have much to contribute beyond the standard ‘sit there and nod stoically every so often’ moral support shtick.

He’d at least managed to get her to let him bring Hades along -- citing him as a new member of the Scions had helped a hells of a lot, even if it wasn’t _strictly_ true; he’d been slowly introducing Hades to the others, bit by bit, but it sure as hell wasn’t _‘official’_ yet -- and the ancient had, as he’d supposed he would, hovered by the door as they’d all sat down on the floor of the old throne room as usual, Lyse’s little circle time idea still apparently going strong. 

Not that it was a _bad_ idea, honestly, it was just kind of amusing. Really sweet, and a bit innocent-- and that that worked was really great; Lyse he’d always figured for not as much of a _leader_ as she was...she was someone who could just make friends easily, and bridge that gap. Earnest and a little naive. Not the same kind of leader as Aymeric or Raubahn or even Hien, but a different kind of idealistic something that somehow managed to work alright with the hopelessness that Ala Mhigans had mired themselves in.

The meeting had gone pretty well -- Valdeaulin had turned up to give a report on the Werlyt situation, since none of the other participants could without the pitchforks coming out -- but once it was over, he’d realized that Hades was no longer in the room. He’d asked around, trailing through the palace and asking the guards, following their mentions of a somewhat upset looking white-haired man running through the halls in the direction of the Royal Menagerie. He’d wondered at that, briefly, but...hells, it wasn’t a bad place to go if you wanted privacy. No one really went up there, thanks to the whole Zenos and Shinryu thing, after all.

“Hades?” He called, entering the garden. It was heading towards evening, and the sunset lighting the garden reminded him uncomfortably of that final duel-- but all the same, it was still pretty. Looking around, it was easy to spot the ancient, too; he was sitting in the centermost flower bed, head bowed, and while for a moment he thought the sight kind of beautiful, with the red flowers and his white hair and all that, he saw then that his shoulders were shaking. “Hades?”

There was no answer, and Bran rushed over, dropping to his knees to hug him before he even got any more words out. Without words, Hades let out a broken wail, and threw himself into the embrace, clinging tightly and sobbing helplessly into Bran’s shoulder. Bran blinked, and then held him closer; it was his turn to run his hand through his hair, humming quietly, rocking him gently as he cried. He couldn’t entirely be sure what had set this off, but...whatever it was, it had finally shattered the pretense that he was alright, that he was fine, and that he was unaffected by all that had come to pass.

It came quickly apparent that this wasn’t a fit of crying that would end soon, however; his shoulder shook hard enough to make his body tremble, and his sobs continued even as they became hoarse and rasping from how hard they kept coming, ragged keening wails that seemed as if they had been built up over all the past eons and were just now being let free.

“Shhh,” Bran whispered, uncertain of what to do. “Shhh. M’here.” What was he...he sighed quietly, running his hand again through Hades’ hair. There wasn’t much he could do but hold him, try to comfort him...but at least he sort of knew what to do. Remembered his ma comforting him after bad dreams, when he was little. How old had Hades been, before their world ended? What had happened to his parents? Did he even remember them? It…well. He remembered his mom. He could...do what she did, right? He could do that.

“ _I see the moon, the moon sees me, shining through the leaves of the old oak tree_ ,” he sang, voice low and gentle as he murmured the words to the old (not so old, really, but how long had it been since he’d last heard it?) lullaby. “ _Oh, let the light that shines on me shine on the one I love_...”

He could feel the trembling still somewhat, the sobs subsiding, and he continued. “ _Over the mountain, over the sea, back where my heart is longing to be. Oh, let the light that shines on me shine on the one I love…_ ” He trailed off, then, knowing there was more but letting the song hover there at a pause, just to see if it was helping, if Hades was listening.

“...hero,” Hades rasped eventually, peering up at him with reddened eyes and a tear-streaked face. “You...I apologize. I...must have startled you, vanishing like that…” He trailed off and laughed wetly, pressing his face again into Bran’s shoulder, and Bran rubbing his back quietly, waiting for him to gather himself enough to continue. 

“...it was so much like Amaurot,” he got out eventually. “The...the lot of you, sitting together like that, talking so-- so kindly, like all were equal, like there was...no difference between you, between beastman and man, between civilian and soldier, young and old…it was-- it was so like _home_...” Bran hummed to himself, understanding. It had been the same in Eulmore, back at the Ladder, but then...but then he’d been tempered, hadn’t been able to see worth in them all, just a similarity that made him all the more bitter and angry that they weren’t _enough_. It was a ghost of a world he was trying to bring back both times, only now...only now he could see it for what it was, that the people here were worthy, could be what they were, even a little, instead of poor imitations. No wonder it had set him off.

“...you miss home,” he says softly. “It’s okay, Hades. I know you do. I’d be shocked if you didn’t. It’s alright. No one will ever, ever hold it against you. I don’t. It’s a home worth missing, Hades, and I’m...I’m sorry you’ll never see it again. I am.”

Hades swallowed another sob, curling closer to Bran. “So much,” he whispered. “So much it hurts. And it hurts all the more that I know now, I _know_ it’s gone. I’ve bowed out and left the stage, left it all to you, and I know you and your Scions will remember with me, but it-- I--” He broke off, a soft noise escaping him. “I _miss_ it. I miss them. I miss everything I used to know, everything that used to be. More than any man should have to bear, for longer than you could ever know. There are things worth staying for, things in this world I _know_ are worth letting it remain, but--”

“But you want to go home,” Bran finished. “Wouldn’t anyone?” He smiled faintly. “It’s okay to feel like that. You don’t have to pretend otherwise, you know. I’m the _last_ person to judge if you need a good cry sometimes, if you...if you sometimes can’t stand how much you miss everything, how much it hurts. Trust me, I get it.” He hugged Hades tighter briefly, before shifting to be able to meet his eyes. “Just don’t lie to me anymore, alright? Don’t pretend to be fine when you’re not. That’s what I did, all the way ‘til it broke me.” He leaned forward so their foreheads touched. “So talk to me, alright? Whenever you need to. About whatever you need to. Even if it’s something I don’t know about or understand, I’ll listen. And...I’ll talk to you, too. Equal exchange. Please? I know some of this I could never even begin to grasp, but...you’re upset. You hurt. And I don’t...if I can do something to help, then let me. Even if it’s just _listening_. ‘Cause I didn’t let anyone do that for me, and it almost destroyed me.”

Hades swallowed. “I…” He began, and then closed his eyes. “...I haven’t had anyone do that for me in eons,” he admitted finally. “It’s a miracle I _didn’t_...but they _did_.” He laughed, then, pulling back and looking away, digging his fingers into the flowers around them. “None of us spoke to each other, not about the things that mattered, and I had to watch Elidibus lose himself by fragments century by century, devoured by the god we made him into. I had to watch Lahabrea burn himself into nothing, a wildfire that consumed him until all that was left was the ashes of who he used to be. I--” He broke off and laughed again, looking down at the flowers.

“He died here, didn’t he?” He asked weakly. “Lahabrea. This is where he was finally--” He caught Bran’s startled expression and smiled, another weak laugh escaping him. “I feel him here, the last traces of his soul, like smoke on the wind. His aether, it stains the air. This is where he…” His voice broke and he had to bury himself in Bran once more. “This is where the bastard left me _alone_.”

Bran swallowed. “...the eyes,” he murmured. “He was in those eyes all the way ‘til here and then he…” _Oh,_ he thought, and hugged Hades again. “I’d say you aren’t alone, but...you are. You have me, but I’m not-- you’re the only unsundered left. I’m sorry.” There wasn’t anything he could do about that, he knew; that Hades was truly alone, the last of his kind. “But I’m here. I’m here, and even if you’re...you’ll never be alone. Not if I can help it. I promise.” He rested his head against Hades’ own. “As long as I live, and then I’ll come find you all over again. Every time. I swear I will.”

That got Hades, unsurprisingly, to start crying again, and Bran sighed fondly, shifting to get more comfortable and pulling him close. “We can’t stay here all night,” he warned gently. “But I’ve got you. Take your time. As long as you need.”

He knew, after all, how much he needed it. How much Bran had needed it, and never gotten to until it was far too late to have helped much. So he’d be here for him, hold him as long as he needed to cry, and every time after. That’s what they were meant to do for each other.

And he knew-- he _knew_. No matter what, he’d never leave Hades alone. Not as long as he lived, and every life from here on out. That was a _promise._


	7. day 7: forget me not

**Day 7: Forget-Me-Not**

“Did you _time_ this, hero?” Hades said accusingly, as they wandered through Gridania. “This feels spectacularly _timed_.”

Bran snorted. “No, actually,” he said dryly. “Surprisingly, I’m neither from Gridania nor have I lived here for any reasonable length of time, therefore I do not actually know when they have local festivals.” He gestured around them, at the city full of a a rainbow of flowers, nearly falling out of every available vessel to put them in and then some, draped across every pole and lamppost and bridge railing, to the point where it was almost overwhelming. “I’m not even sure what’s going on here, to be honest. Botanists’ Guild celebration? Anniversary of something? Maybe it doesn’t matter. It’s just…flowers. Lots of flowers.”

“A great _deal_ of flowers,” Hades grumbled, batting at a dangling bit of color as they turned a corner. “Not that I mind, really, flowers are quite lovely, but-- by the stars, this is a bit much. Those who are sensitive to pollen must be locking themselves inside for the foreseeable future. Poor things.”

Bran laughed, shaking his head. “You can live with it just a little longer,” he teased. “I just have to drop a couple things off at the Adder’s Nest.”

“Remind me why?” Hades asked, bemused. “I’d thought you were affiliated with _Ul’dah’s_ Grand Company.”

“Yeah, I am, but a couple people asked me to drop off some stuff for them when we were passing through Hawthorne Hut earlier,” Bran explained with a shrug. “At this point I’m kind of just numb to the idea I’m everyone’s errand boy, really. _Especially_ if they recognize me.”

Hades shook his head fondly, leaning into the Warrior. “Ah, hero. Such is life, I suppose. People ever clamoring for your aid, in matters great and small. And you’ll always help, even if you gripe about it the entire time, mm?” He smiled as Bran sighed, rolling his eyes with a crooked smile. “But yes, let’s hurry and get your errand over with before the smell knocks me over.”

As they hurried off, however, they were stopped by one of the many temporary stalls and booths set up dotted about the city, with people hawking all sorts of products and gifts made out of flowers and other bright greenery. This one was run by a Viera girl, with pale skin and light pink hair, her eyes a deep burgundy. “You two, you two!” She called, catching Bran’s sleeve and grinning toothily, voice a fair bit younger than her face implied. “You look like you need flower crowns.”

“Uh--” Bran said, flustered. “I don’t-- do we?” He stammered out, embarrassed, but he was caught, and she was a kid, and...he sighed. “Alright,” he agreed. “If you think so.” He paused, glancing at the grinning Hades, and huffed. “For _both_ of us,” he added, making the ancient’s grin fade to a pout and his own smile return triumphantly.

The girl giggled and nodded, and dove into her stall -- the walls and nearly every inch of free space within it were covered with pots full of almost any flower one could think of, and she scurried about to gather up the ones she had picked out. “I know just the perfect ones for both of you,” she declared. “You sit tight!”

Her fingers flashed deftly over the blossoms as she wove them together, and then she looked up. “You first, with the pretty white in your hair, come here,” she declared, and watched Hades patiently until he moved over, bending just enough so she could plop the crown upon his head. It was a striking thing, two different types of pale blue blossoms woven together with a third of vivid crimson, and he adjusted it carefully, a bemused smile on his face. “It’s a crown fit for a king,” he declared, making bran kick him beneath the girl’s view. “Thank you, my little friend.”

“Forget me nots and asters,” the girl said with a smile that seemed now to Bran to be a little wiser than her age implied she’d be. “For remembrance. And poppies! They sometime symbolize rebirth.” Hades blinked, startled, and then smiled more fondly, patting her head. “You see more than most, little one,” he said softly. “It’s lovely.”

The girl just smiled and ducked her head, weaving her second, and Bran obediently bowed his own head to let her place it-- sprigs of small purple and blue blossoms bound together with soft green leaves. “Yours is garlic blossoms, for courage and strength, hyacinth for constancy, and laurel for success!” She smiled again. “It suits you.”

Now it was Bran’s turn to blink. “Ah,” he said, settling it on his head. “It’s...really nice, thanks,” he said, eyeing her curiously, but she just giggled, waving them off as she turned to speak to a young couple that was approaching down the road.

Hades continued to watch her as they departed, and hummed in bemused interest as they passed into the newer area of Gridania where the Adder’s Nest sat. “She certainly had something of the Echo herself,” he noted. “Though in what form I can’t imagine. I hope she didn’t see too much of _me_ , though, I...wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“She saw enough, I think,” Bran noted, tugging a little on the crown gently. “Remembrance and rebirth...fits you well enough.”

Hades sighed, and looked away. “She...didn’t quite mention the details on that, really,” he muttered. “I’m not unaware of the meanings of flowers myself, and it…” He bit his lip briefly. “Forget me nots tend to be generally given by _lovers,_ at least in my experience, and asters mean less ‘remembrance’ and more...” He sighed. “More... _I won’t forget you_.”

“Well, I won’t,” Bran said immediately, and Hades nearly tripped over. “What? _Obviously_ it’s meant to be about us. Or you and Azem and me, anyway.”

Hades flushed faintly. “I-- yes, well. I knew that. But--”

“But what?” Bran said, and then stopped, blinking, before he turned red. “Oh!” He managed. _“Oh!”_

He’d-- Hades had said _lovers_ , and he’d just-- oh! Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods just let the ground open up and devour him now. Sure, they’d been...a thing, kind of. Definitely. Dates and kisses and sleeping curled up together and holding hands and all that stuff you did with someone you loved, but they’d never-- well, Bran had never-- he’d never made it so explicit. Never outright confirmed or said it before. It had been implied, more than enough to be obvious, and both of them had been well aware Hades was way ahead of him on the whole ‘acknowledging he has feelings’ train. Bran had taken weeks to be able to admit it was dating, let alone have the courage to initiate hand holding, and even now he rarely if ever initiated the kissing out of shyness...and hells, until right that moment he hadn’t been completely, entirely certain _of_ his feelings beyond…

He’d known he was fond of Hades, that he cared about him deeply, that he liked being around him and wanted him to heal, wanted him by his side-- but...until now? Until now, he hadn’t been sure, and now he knew.

He loved him.

“...still meant it,” Bran managed, red and flustered. “I won’t forget you. I promised you I’d remember, and I will. From now on, every single time, I’ll remember.” He shifted to step forward, leaning against him and tugging Hades’ head down so their foreheads touch. “I chose you, Hades. Not because of who I was, or who you were, but because of who we are now. I chose you, and that’s a promise-- one I mean to keep. You’re--” He stopped, swallowing, his flush deepening, but he pressed forward. “You’re mine, alright? I chose you and you’re _mine_. So...yeah. I guess I mean what it sounds like I do.”

Hades smiled faintly. “And I am yours, my hero,” he promised softly. “For all the eons I have left to live. I have been yours for far longer than you can imagine, and I will be yours until my soul ceases to be.” He let out a breath. “I loved him, but he is gone. He is gone, and you are here. And you are _Bran_ , and I love you for that just as much. I love you, Bran. My hero. And I’m yours.”

Bran swallowed, sent into a momentary silence by the weight of that promise, the reminder of how old he was, how long he’d live-- but then he smiled again. “Love you too, Hades,” he replied, finally putting it to voice. “And...I’m yours, yeah? Goes both ways.” That said, he pressed a shy kiss to his lips and stepped back, smiling all the wider as he waited for the ancient to compose himself again from the shock of hearing him say it aloud.

“C’mon,” he urged. “You wanted the errands done, right? Let’s get going. We can head back after this, and I _think_ I have the stuff back home to make a decent dinner. And dessert.”

“Ah, dessert, my favorite meal of the day,” Hades said, linking his arm with Bran. “Very well, hero, let us be off!”

That said, they headed off to do their business, arm in arm. An unlikely pair, one a shadow-stained hero and the other a former villain-- but they were a pair all the same. Bound together by a great many things, and...they would remain so. 

They would keep each other close, and ever remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Aster the Viera, who isn't in game yet but who is an upcoming PC of mine who'll be on Goblin in due time. She is not a Warrior of Light, but she does have the Echo, and is incredibly insightful and empathetic. It's a bit contrived, yes, but I just needed an excuse for the flower crowns and she was happy to oblige.


End file.
